


Rapture

by TuppingLiberty



Series: Raf and Clay short series [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bar, Condoms, M/M, One Night Stands, Safer Sex, Sweet, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29503947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: FFC day 15: RaptureFeaturing: a follow up to Raf and Clay from Collapse, but this is actually their one-night stand before Collapse takes place (if that's not too confusing :D )
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Raf and Clay short series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167224
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: February Ficlet Challenge 2021: Apocalypse No





	Rapture

The bar is not at all his style. ‘Honky tonk’ might best describe it, or the music pouring out of the door as people exit. There’s a bevy of smokers out front, and they’re all wearing what Raf would politely term Western Rugged. So yeah, the bar is definitely not his style. 

The thing is, he kind of doesn’t give a fuck right now. He’s in a town he doesn’t know, because his flight back to LA had been rerouted because of a stupid hurricane, in the best hotel his assistant could book for him. He’s lonely, still hurt from the visit to his parents’ place in Tennessee. You can’t go home again, apparently. Not even if you’re the first omega editor of a major publication. 

Maybe especially not if. 

So yeah, he realizes he’s vulnerable, but being cooped up in his room with bad wifi has made him restless, and he’s been watching folks go to and from the bar across the street for the better part of an hour. 

He doesn’t have much to work with, because of course his checked baggage had made it through to LA (where Evie had greeted it, and very unfortunately not him), but he’s still able to toss together a look that’s enough down home that he hopefully won’t stick out like a sore thumb. Skinny jeans, a simple button up, his favorite flight shoes - simple flats he wouldn’t get caught dead in anyplace else. It’ll have to do, he decides. He puts on his most confident swagger and crosses the street. 

He can tell from the looks the smokers give him that he hasn’t succeeded in blending in. Cowed, feeling vulnerable, he orders a drink from the bar and then finds a dark corner to people watch from and try to avoid everyone’s curious stares. 

There’s a pool game going on between two alphas who do look like they belong here. Raf’s eyes are particularly drawn to the taller cowboy, his ass hugged by a great set of worn jeans, his arms and chest filling out the t-shirt he’s wearing. Raf takes a sip of his beer and cocks his head as the cowboy leans over to take the shot, not that he’s the only person in the bar with eyes on the hottie. 

He sinks his ball in one of the side pockets and then turns, giving Raf a wink, so obviously he’s felt Raf’s attention. He misses the next shot, though, and very clearly stands to give Raf a great view of his ass again. Raf gives a little chuckle, drinking his beer and thoroughly enjoying the view. 

When it’s the cowboy’s turn again, he takes the cue chalk and methodically prepares his cue, then saunters over to Raf’s dark corner. “Blow me for luck?” he asks, his voice deep, rich. Enticing. 

Raf raises a single, perfectly sculpted brow when the cowboy lowers the tip of the cue to inches in front of Raf’s lips. He holds, daring Raf to give into the flirtatious move, and - who knows the fuck why - Raf does, puckering his lips to a small ‘o’ and blowing the excess chalk from the end of the cowboy’s cue. 

“Thank you very much, sweet thing. Think you’ll be my good luck charm?” 

“Doesn’t seem like you need it. You seem to be cleaning up pretty well.” 

“Well, the blessing of a beautiful omega never hurts.” 

Raf rolls his eyes, but just a little, nodding at the pool table to encourage the cowboy to continue. He’s not quite sure where this is coming from, but it feels a little dangerous, and a lot like a bad idea he just can’t say no to. 

He doesn’t end up saying no, either, when the cowboy - Clay - invites him across the street to his hotel room. Turns out he’s been rerouted by the hurricane too, destined for a flight from LA to SFO. Unlike Raf, though, Clay had fit right in to the honky tonk atmosphere as ‘working in agriculture’ somewhere upstate.

“You have LA written all over you, though,” Clay murmurs in Raf’s ear as he leads him - one hand at the small of Raf’s back, a move that makes Raf  _ melt _ every time - down the hotel hallway. 

“Oh, really?” Raf asks, teasing Clay with just enough of his Tennessee drawl for it to stand out. 

Clay laughs as he uses his key card to get them in his room. “You contain multitudes, don’t you, Raf?” 

“I think it’s probably dangerous to just think of yourself as one thing.” 

“That-” Clay closes the door behind them, then presses Raf to it, using his larger body to pin Raf pleasantly. “Is something I’m going to have to think about. Later. Don’t really feel much like thinking right now.” 

Raf threads his fingers through Clay’s short hair and pulls him down for a kiss. “I could really go for some not-thinking time myself.” 

“Well, let’s see if I can accommodate you, sweet thing.” Clay captures his lips, and maybe it should be awkward, kissing someone so brand new. Raf never does this, never lets himself go, but the stupid reroute to this tiny midwestern town feels like some liminal space where he can. 

Clay’s kiss makes Raf’s toes want to curl. He moves down, fisting into Clay’s t-shirt and pulling him in, wanting to feel every inch of the tall, large alpha against him. He’s getting wet, he can already feel it, can scent Clay’s arousal in the air, too. The atmosphere is electric. Groaning, he slings a leg around Clay’s waist, then grunts in appreciation when Clay helps him haul the other one up so he can straddle Clay and grind them together. 

“God, sweetheart, you’re actually a little hellion, aren’t you?” Clay’s voice is rough against his ear, and he tips his head, offering his neck, always so irresistible to an alpha. 

Clay’s no exception, the rough shadow of beard grown from travel scraping over his sensitive skin. Clay sucks on his mating gland, just teasing at it with his teeth enough for Raf to moan. 

“Just what I thought, hellion. Love it.” Clay readjusts his hands, supporting Raf’s thighs as he continues to press Raf against the door. “Open your shirt for me, sweetie.” 

It takes Raf a second to struggle with the top button, but the rest come easily, exposing his trim chest and stomach to Clay, who makes a noise of appreciation before immediately chasing Raf’s fingers with his lips. He kisses down Raf’s collar bone, to his chest, laving over one of his nipples before nipping at it playfully. Raf groans, rolling his hips against the alpha’s hard on. 

Gripping his ass, Clay flips them around from the door and starts walking them to the bed a few feet away. He drops Raf down on it, letting him bounce before joining him. It feels so good to have a heavy alpha body weighing him down, and Raf lets his legs fall open even though he’s still clutching at Clay’s shirt. 

Except he can’t keep clutching for long because Clay does that thing all hotties do where they pull the shirt off with one hand from the back, and then Raf’s left with Clay’s glorious chest and to-die-for arms, really, such a hardship, having to feel all over Clay’s skin. 

Clay keeps working his way down Raf’s body, pressing kisses everywhere and making Raf’s heart flutter. He feels like he wants to explode, and Clay hasn’t even touched his dick yet. Close, though, because now Clay’s opening the button fly of Raf’s jeans and sliding them over his hips. Raf helps, kicking them away once Clay’s worked them mostly off. All that’s left is the trim black silk briefs he likes to wear, ruined with his own wetness - that’ll be annoying for travel tomorrow but fuck it, liminal space. 

“God, you’re- fuck-” Clay looks as tongue-tied, as excited as Raf feels, for just a random hook up in bumfuck, Nebraska. 

Yeah, okay, Raf can really get behind this whole liminal space philosophy. What happens here, stays here. 

Who knew this random hotel would be better than Vegas? 

And then Raf loses all ability to think as Clay’s mouth is wrapping around his cock through the silk briefs, suckling at the head as his fingers slide down the shaft. He looks up, his eyes practically black when they meet Raf’s. “Can I rim you? I can MacGuyver a dam from a condom if you want.” 

Raf’s heart thumps against his chest. “How many condoms do you have? Because I definitely want you to fuck me. But, uh, I’m negative, if you trust me. I mean, you don’t have to trust me, but I’d love for you to rim me, so...whatever you want?” 

Clay presses kisses up his cock, still trapped in his briefs. “Let me check. Wait. Right. Here.” Each word, punctuated with a kiss to his dick before he leans back and pulls his wallet from his jeans. He check through the billfold, comes up with two foil packets, holds them up with an eyebrow raised. 

“So you rim me and fuck me, or….you fuck me now and fuck me later.” 

Something in Clay’s expression softens. “You want to stay the night?” 

“I mean-”  _ Liminal space, liminal space, Raf.  _ “I’m not opposed. My hotel room is lonely. If you’d rather kick me out of your bed after one go-” 

“I can’t imagine  _ anyone  _ kicking you out of their bed, sweet thing.” Clay tosses the foil packets aside and presses down against Raf’s body again. “So if you want to stay...I guess I’m going to have to be more creative in how I get you off.” 

“Oh?” 

Clay smiles, a Cheshire grin even, before he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of Raf’s briefs and pulls down, exposing his smaller omega cock. Raf kicks those away too, spreading his legs to let Clay see his glistening hole. Clay growls a little, pressing Raf’s thighs open before coming back up to lay against Raf’s side and meet his lips. 

“Sometime, though, sweetheart, you’re going to let me eat you out. Let me see how many times I can get you to come on my tongue alone.” 

Raf whimpers, then gasps when Clay slips two fingers inside him. They slide in like butter, Raf’s so excited, and Clay takes advantage, kissing him again, his tongue sliding inside too to fuck against Raf’s. Raf can only imagine it licking up inside him, imagine himself, thighs splayed, Clay’s head between his legs as Raf comes again and again and again. 

With a moan, he pushes his hips up against Clay’s fingers, helps him find Raf’s prostate. When Raf shudders, Clay’s lips spread in a shit-eating grin, and he pushes against Raf’s prostate repeatedly, abusing the spot as he moves his lips down to Raf’s mating gland again. 

He doesn’t bite - that would be extremely poor form for a one night stand - but he nibbles, sucks at it until it’s bruised and sensitive and flooding Raf with rapturous feelings that reverberate with the press of his fingers against Raf’s prostate. They ring together, waves come from his neck and his hole that move out like ripples in a pond until they lap against each other, somewhere near Raf’s stomach. At least, that’s where it feels like the orgasm starts for Raf, his stomach going all warm and soft and pliant, then moving through his limbs before exploding behind his eyes. 

“Mmm, beautiful. Can’t imagine what you’ll feel like around my tongue.” 

Raf moans a complaint when Clay pulls back, but it’s only to shed his own jeans and rip open one of the packages. In a moment, Clay’s kneeling over him, his condom-covered alpha cock jutting into the air, making Raf’s mouth water. With an expectant hum, Raf lets his legs fall open, trying to be as inviting to the alpha as possible. 

“Sweetheart,” Clay murmurs, and Raf  _ feels  _ it, even though he knows the pet name is just so Clay doesn’t have to remember what to call his one-night stand. “The rest of the world can’t know how good you are, can they? Or you’d never have been free to come to me. But look at you, so ready to take my cock.” 

Raf rolls his eyes again, reaching up to pull Clay down. “You better fuck as well as you talk, cowboy.” 

Clay grins, taking his lips again for a searing kiss even as he lines his cock up with Raf’s hole. “Hellion, too. Sweetest hellion I’ve ever met.” With one stroke, he pushes all the way inside, skin to skin, flush against Raf. 

Raf throws his head back against the mattress, savoring the feel of the cock deep inside him. He stays that way for a second, until he feels gentle fingers tentatively on his cheek. “You with me still, sweetheart?” 

Raf hums, then nods, then, when Clay still won’t move, worried look on his face: “Yes, fuck me, move, goddammit.” 

Clay laughs, a deep sound that stirs Raf’s chest. The alpha leverages himself on the mattress, his arms on either side of Raf’s face as he pulls out, then thrusts inside again in another smooth stroke. It lights up everything inside Raf’s body, and he wraps his legs around Clay’s waist again and gives his best back. 

The rhythm is primal and perfect, Clay’s eyes meeting his, oddly intimate. Not  _ too _ intimate, though, and Raf can’t look away. He’s panting, matching Clay’s thrusts in a dance older than both of them. As old as life. 

Raf gasps when Clay’s knot starts to expand, catching on his rim and forcing it open wider, and Clay pauses, sweeping Raf’s carefully manicured bangs - now sweaty and plastered to his forehead - off of his face. “Are you okay with me knotting?” 

“Yeah, I-” Raf tries to catch his breath. “I’ve just never…” 

“Are you sure? It can be overwhelming.” 

He can still feel it, expanding inside him, pressing at his rim. “I’m sure. I want to. You can knot me.” 

Clay leans down to kiss him as he starts to fuck him again, district him from the weird feeling of his cock getting even bigger. It’s expanding rapidly, almost too much to pull out now, a weird pleasure-pain that has Raf moaning against Clay’s lips and thrusting back, chasing his knot. 

It’s when the knot locks in place, stretching Raf’s rim to the limits, locking them together, leaving Clay’s cock rubbing over his prostate, that Raf comes again. His thighs squeeze at Clay’s hips, his fingers digging into skin. He thinks he bites down on Clay’s lip but he doesn’t remember as the rapture crashes through his body. Clay groans, pulsing inside him, his orgasm slower but seemingly no less powerful as he shudders in Raf’s arms. 

He’s never had an alpha do more than fuck him and leave him, so it’s...strange when Clay’s still there, because they’re still tied, of course, but because Clay’s still coming every few moments. Raf can tell because he shudders, groans, and then stiffens again. It’s almost...almost loving, to hold Clay through it, to stroke over his sweaty skin and whisper how good it feels inside him when Clay’s cock pulses. It’s...sweet, even. 

Even sweeter, when Clay’s finally done and he carries Raf to the shower, cleans them all up after tossing the condom in the trash. Raf’s shaky, tired, but he still doesn’t want to leave. He manages to wobble back to the bed, find Clay’s t-shirt and pull it on, and fall into the covers with a happy sigh. 

Clay pulls out a pair of pajama bottoms from his bag - apparently he hadn’t checked anything - and then cuddles up behind Raf, big-spooning the fuck out of him. It’s very, very nice. 

Their second round in the morning is very, very nice too. 

Clay brings back continental breakfast - a little of everything because he doesn’t know what Raf likes - and they share a banana and a bagel with shmear in bed. Raf’s still wearing Clay’s shirt, cross legged and leaning up against the backboard. Clay’s laying on his side on the bed, his head close enough that Raf’s tempted to reach out and run his fingers through Clay’s hair - so he does. 

Clay looks up at him, his eyes soft. “My business brings me to LA sometimes. Couple times a year.” 

“Mine takes me to San Francisco quite a bit, actually. We have an office there.” 

Clay reaches over to grab his phone from the night stand and unlocks it, handing it over to Raf. “You should text yourself from my phone. For, you know, the next time we’re in town together.” 

Raf hesitates for a moment, then takes it and texts himself. It’s silly. This is a liminal space. 

That’s probably why he just puts Clay as ‘hottie from the bar’ in his phone. 

It helps create distance. 

It’s not like Clay’s serious about seeing him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I just really loved these characters (in my brain...since I'd barely written anything about Clay in the other one, but I could picture him) so I wanted to do a little more. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
